Winnie the Pooh and the Wii U Surprise
by DoctorWario
Summary: When Winnie the Pooh picks up a brand-new game console at the store, he and his friends from the Hundred-Acre Wood try to figure out how it works. Naturally, the silliest of hijinks ensue.
1. In Which Pooh Bear Sets Up His Wii U

One day in the Hundred Acre Wood, inside his humble little home, Winnie the Pooh was fumbling about with a fancy-looking box and becoming more and more puzzled with each second. It was a box for a Sony PlayStation 4, and Pooh had just bought it after a wonderful trip to his local Best Buy store. Unfortunately, having hands filled with fluff made it difficult for Pooh to remove the sealing tape on the box, and with each failed attempt, his cotton sphincter puckered ever moreso. After failing for the thirtieth time in a row, he finally made the decision to call Rabbit, who more than likely knew what to do in this situation.

Inside his neatly-kept hole, Rabbit was getting ready to dice up a couple of onions when he suddenly heard the song "Ten Thousand Fists" by Disturbed emanating from his flip phone.

"Ah shit, that must be Pooh Bear," he grumbled, putting his knife down and answering the phone with a particularly annoyed expression plastered on his face. "H-Hello?"

"Yes hello, is this Rabbit? I have a question for Rabbit…" murmured Pooh, sitting on top of the PlayStation 4 box and kicking his legs in a whimsical fashion.

"Of course it's Rabbit, you called my personal cell phone. What do you want?"

"O-Oh, hello Rabbit! I was just having some trouble opening the box for my new Wii U I bought at Best Buy, and wanted to know how I'd go about getting the tape off?"

"...Really? That's the urgent dilemma you had to call me about and interrupt my dinner preparations with? Christ, Pooh. You're more dense than a wet sack of potatoes. Do you have any knives lying about? That'd probably get the tape right off."

"Uhh, no...I don't really need knives since all I eat is honey straight from the jar…" Pooh said with a hiccup, lightly bouncing on top of the box that was clearly not containing a Wii U.

Rabbit simply stood there, internally screaming and tearing up a bit as the gases from his onions began to waft into his eyes. His gaze shifted to his knife, and he let out a pained sigh.

Next thing he knew, Rabbit found himself outside Winnie the Pooh's front door, brandishing his kitchen knife with an iron grip. Begrudgingly, he knocked on the wooden door twice; instantly, Pooh swung the door open and met Rabbit with an innocent smile.

"Hello, Rabbit! Come in, come in! We can play some games together once we get it open, too! Have you ever heard of Halo 5: Guardians?" Pooh bumbled as he led the annoyed rabbit into his home, accidentally slamming the door behind him. A big plastic bag from Best Buy was strewn across the floor, and the pristine-looking PlayStation 4 box was still sitting there.

"Hmm...so that thing's a Wii U, eh? I haven't seen one before, what does it do?" inquired Rabbit, squatting next to the box and poking it with the edge of his blade.

"It's a video game console, Rabbit. You put discs in it, and it makes you go "Wee!" That's why it's called a Wii U, you see," replied Pooh, sitting on the floor next to Rabbit. The box clearly did not say "Wii U," but neither of them could read, so it didn't matter at all.

"Welp, might as well do what I came here to do then!" said Rabbit as he nicked the small pieces of tape and opened the box, revealing the pricey rhombus-shaped system. "My my, this thing is darker than my late nana's soul, Pooh Bear!" he stated emphatically.

For the next two hours, the two of them underwent the seemingly impossible task of hooking the PlayStation 4 up to Winnie the Pooh's LCD TV. They had no idea which wires went where, didn't understand what HDMI meant, and didn't know how to read the instruction manual, only going off the tiny pictures it supplied. After struggling for a bit, they finally had everything set up in a fashion that looked reasonable, and they pushed the power button.

Pooh's TV screen illuminated and displayed the initial PS4 set-up, and they just input whatever they thought looked right. Not getting a single thing correct, it finally instructed Pooh Bear to type in his preferred PSN profile name.

"Oh, well that's easy!" he said with a chuckle, inputting "SweetPissBaby25." He couldn't read, but his fingers became possessed by a malevolent demon and caused him to type that.

"I can't tell what it says, but I'm sure it's marvelous, Pooh Bear," said Rabbit, becoming more and more eager to play Halo 5: Guardians as time went on. After a few more miniscule option settings, the PS4 Home Menu finally splashed onto the screen. With a grin on his face, Pooh cracked open the Halo 5 box that clearly had an Xbox One logo on it and took the disc out, sliding it into the PlayStation 4's disc slot. With a brief spat of whirring noises coming from the system, rather than the game starting up, an error message appeared:

 _Cannot recognize the disc._

 _Make sure that the disc is not damaged or dirty, and that it is not inserted upside-down._

Pooh and Rabbit, who were both still unable to read, simply stared at the screen with anticipation. Seconds went by, and after several of them, they turned into minutes. They expected something to happen, and yet nothing on the screen changed.

"...Is this Halo 5: Guardians, Pooh? It's pretty fucking boring, so far…" Rabbit mumbled, twirling the analog sticks on the DualShock controller impatiently.

"Bother...it does seem a bit like rubbish so far, I agree," added Pooh, picking up the Halo 5: Guardians box and spitting on it with utter disgust and contempt. Hatred had consumed him.

Just then, Pooh's front door exploded off its hinges and an orange blur zoomed into the small room that they were occupying. After a few shrieks of genuine terror and some tumbles on the ground, Pooh found himself lying on the ground with Tigger standing on his belly.

"Hoo-hoo-hoo-hooo! Hello, I'm Tigger!" he proclaimed triumphantly, digging his tiger claws into Pooh just enough that it was painful but not enough that it would draw blood.


	2. In Which Tigger Arrives and Helps Out

"Hello there, Tigger. You've arrived just in time to watch Rabbit & I play Halo 5: Guardians… or at least attempt to play it, that is. It's complete and utter horse shit so far," said Pooh Bear, patting Tigger's paws as he stared down at him. Glancing at the television inquisitively, Tigger hopped off the bear's bouncy belly and snatched the controller out of Rabbit's clutches, breathing heavily.

"Well of course it's shit so far, you guys aren't even playin' it right!" he exclaimed, removing the disc from the system and inspecting it. After a few seconds of pondering, Tigger licked the top of the disc in a circular motion and inserted it right back into the PlayStation 4, as if he just sealed some kind of futuristic envelope and sent it out to his tax office.

Once again, the same error message was displayed, accompanied by scratchy noises from within the system that were ever so worrisome. With an abrupt gasp, Pooh Bear motioned to fetch the disc out, but Tigger halted his advance. Still breathing in an obnoxiously loud manner, he ejected the disc again and huffed. "Unbelievable."

With a start, the rambunctious little boy headed over to Pooh's cupboard with the disc in-hand and retrieved two slices of bread, along with a generous swipe of blackberry jam across one of them. Placing the Halo 5: Guardians disc between the slices with a satisfying _wap_ , Tigger then took an average-sized bite out of his makeshift sandwich and completely destroyed that small circle of grooved plastic.

"Christ alive, the absolute m-madman…" Rabbit stammered, watching the stuffed tiger chew on shards of broken compact disc and jam until his mouth was bleeding profusely. "I had a feeling that was the right way to play, I was just too afraid to try it myself…"

"Cowards, the lot of ya…" Tigger mumbled with blood dripping from his lips, still breathing at a volume akin to the decibels of an underground subway train passing by. At this point in the story, your mental variation of Jim Cummings providing Tigger's voice left the recording studio in a fit of rage, and was promptly replaced by the voice of Gilbert Gottfried.

Pooh Bear stood and watched Tigger swallow his creation, with jagged bits of CD poking out of his esophagus with nary a reaction. Once his palate was sated, the beast glared at Pooh and licked his lips with enticing fervor. A devilish invitation for unwholesome debauchery.

"You know what comes next, right Pooh Bear?" Tigger purred, sauntering over to the pricey console and picking it up, detaching all the wires in the process. Rabbit and Pooh were taken aback by this, but found themselves comforted by Tigger's alpha-male prowess.

"N-No, I can't say I'm quite sure, my friend…" the bear stated timidly, twiddling his thumbs and following Tigger over to his kitchen counter. The rowdy tiger pulled out a tray out of Pooh Bear's oven and wiped it down with a stick of butter, practically drooling. "The next step is to eat the whole console, ya silly bear! First ya eat the game, then comes the console!"

Rabbit and Pooh gathered around Tigger while he cranked the oven up to four-hundred and fifty degrees, then abruptly dropped the PlayStation 4 onto the buttery tray, sending a splash of wet butter onto Pooh Bear's cheek. "Oh Pooh, you've got something on your face! Let me get that…" Rabbit cooed, leaning in and swiping the streak of butter with his tongue. Pooh giggled nervously and folded his arms.

"Ahaha… thank you, Rabbit…" he murmured, knitting his brow as Rabbit stepped away to observe Tigger's unorthodox dinner preparations. "What the fuck…"

Intentionally slamming the oven door shut, Tigger turned to his pals and patted them on the shoulders, grinning ear to ear. "Now we just gotta wait fifteen minutes, or until it's golden brown! This is gonna be tasterific, trust me!" he bellowed, casually bouncing on his tail. Rabbit and Pooh smiled and glanced at the television, pondering what to do to pass the time.

"Have you guys seen _Fight Club_?" Rabbit inquired in an almost sultry tone, pulling a DVD copy of the film from out of nowhere and bouncing his eyebrows. Pooh and Tigger shook their heads no, which inevitably led to the three of them watching _Fight Club_ , of course.

About ten minutes into watching the film, Pooh suddenly noticed something particularly strange. A dense cloud of black smoke was floating above their heads, and the sound of something fizzling was emanating from the oven. Pooh's humble abode smelled like the aftermath of a Chinese electronics manufacturer being bombed to oblivion, and he had absolutely no idea what could possibly be wrong.

"Tigger? Tigger, I think something's wrong with the roast…" he stated emphatically, turning and pointing to the smoking oven with a trembling finger. Instantly, Tigger's head span around one-hundred and eighty degrees (accompanied by the sounds of snapping bones and cartilage), and he let out a raspy, surprised gasp. "Heck, I musta set the temperature too high!"

With an air of urgency, Tigger leapt from his seat on the sofa to remedy the problem. Without hesitation, he opened the oven door and unleashed an enormous waft of charcoal-colored smoke, which quickly spread throughout the room. A burst of fire erupted from the oven and singed Tigger's whiskers, prompting him to bound away with a yelp. "Pooh, what's wrong with yer oven, huh? This ain't supposed to happen!"

The fire reached out of the oven and latched onto a nearby set of drapes, which caused it to quickly spread throughout the entire room and send the three friends into a state of adrenaline-ridden despair. Rabbit fumbled with the remote and paused _Fight Club_ , relatively certain that they'd be able to continue watching it again at some point soon.

"Tigger, you hollow-headed waste of flesh and bone! Look what you've done to my beautiful home! What are we supposed to eat now? The Wii U has melted!" Pooh shrieked, picking up a half-empty can of Monster and tossing it at Tigger's head. It made contact with a _clang_ and sent Tigger careening to the floor, wailing all the way until he landed unconscious. "Bother, we'll kill him later. Rabbit, help me put out the fire! We have precious little time!"

"Alright alright, gimme a second…" he mumbled, getting on all fours so he could eject the _Fight Club_ disc from Pooh's Blu-Ray player and return it safely to its case. However, before he could finish his task, the fire spread to the television set and caused it to explode, unhinging it from its wall-support and sending it crashing down on top of Rabbit. Rabbit's toes curled up as a pool of crimson blood leaked from under the ruined television, much to Pooh's chagrin. "Really? You're dead now? Unacceptable," the bear said in an annoyed tone, spitting on Rabbit's fatally damaged corpse. Malice had yet to depart from his blackened soul.


	3. In Which Pooh Bear Gets an Idea

Thick black smog now had Pooh Bear's humble abode in a chokehold, and it wasn't showing any signs of stopping. The clumsy bear hobbled around in a frenzy, trying to fan the flames with a tattered blanket to no avail. The smoke eventually got so dense that Pooh found himself coughing up fluff, which certainly wasn't a good sign at all.

"I-I know! I'll fetch some water from the old well behind Christopher Robin's house! That'll put a stop to this bothersome nonsense…" he grumbled, trampling over the unconscious bodies of Rabbit and Tigger on his way to the door. The flames were sure to devour them now.

Pooh Bear's front door burst open and unleashed a massive cloud of tarry smoke; his exit was in fact so forceful that the sign above his door reading "Mr. Sanders" detached itself, clocking the silly bear square on the noggin. "Oh bother, bother and _fuck_ ," he bellowed in a melancholic fashion. "Why are we still here? Just to suffer?" Absentmindedly rubbing his delicate skull, the bear made a beeline toward the aforementioned well. On the way toward Christopher Robin's house, Piglet poked his miniscule, utterly disappointing head out from his little window, smiling at his favorite friend.

"H-H-Hello Pooh Bear! What's g-got you in such a hurry? You're b-booking it faster than the wind on a bustly, blustery d-day!" he squeaked with fervor. Pooh did not slow himself one bit, nor did he even turn his head a micro-fraction of an inch toward the succulent creature. Instead, the pudgy plush bear emitted a gurgling cackle so otherworldly and bizarre that it can only be sufficiently compared to the sound of a dusty printer attempting to produce a copy of a twenty-two page thesis while being mercilessly drowned in Smucker's® Concord Grape Jelly. Blushing ever so slightly, Piglet nodded and went back inside to his study. Clutching a dainty cup of chamomile tea, the worthless porker glanced at his framed photograph of Pooh.

"...You s-slutty, slutty bear… w-when will you finally understand my feelings…?"

Just as Christopher Robin's house began to make itself present in Pooh Bear's peripheral vision, a familiar figure appeared on his opposite side. "Hey there, Pooh. They didn't have any whole milk at the supermarket so I ended up gettin' skim. Hope it doesn't upset your tummy too much, eh-heh-heh…" It was Pooh Bear's beloved husband, Hank Hill, who had just returned from the Hundred-Acre Market for an errand. Undoubtedly, that first night they spent in Cancun together almost seven years prior was the most magical night of their lives.

"Oh bother Hank, forget the milk! Our house is ablaze, all because of Tigger and his cursed Wii U surprise! If he isn't already dead by now, I say we both string him up by the neck and take funny pictures with his corpse! Rabbit's, too!" Pooh squelched, popping a blood vessel. Hank sighed and knitted his brow, gently setting his bag of groceries down beside him.

"Alright alright, calm down, honeybunch. Everything's gonna be just fine. See I've always got my trusty can of WD-40 on hand for when things get outta hand-"

With a forceful whap, Pooh knocked the WD-40 out of Hank's hand just as he pulled it out from the extra-dimensional vacuum hidden behind his back. Aghast by the bear's hasty disobedience, he let out a huff and folded his arms. "Now what'd ya do that for? Man I tell you h'what, I bet none o' this would've happened if you just let me install a propane stove in the house instead o' that dang electric oven. Makes me sick-"

"Would you shut up? Just shut up, you utterly massive and horrible man. That stupid can of whatever-the-hell would do nothing to save our home, and frankly, I'm starting to think that this marriage isn't quite what I expected it to be. I think Kanga was right about you, Hank!" the yellow bear grunted, swatting the air in front of his husband with grizzly intent. "I think I've had enough. Get out of my sight, Hank Hill. We're finished."

Sighing once again, Hank stooped over to reclaim the milk, but was met with a fierce swipe on the nose from his estranged ex-husband. "Begone, thot!" Pooh Bear groaned. With a grimace, Hank recoiled and skittered off into the forest on all fours, never to be seen again in the Hundred-Acre Wood. Feeling pleased with himself, Pooh kicked over the bag of groceries and continued on his way to the ever-important well. "Such an abysmal sack of garbage he was."

With hard-boiled hatred ablaze in his eyes, the stuffed bear traipsed around Christopher Robin's pathetic little house until his eyes fell upon his destination around back. Right next to Christopher's favorite McDonald's playset (with a drive-thru and everything), there existed a dingy-looking well that regularly emitted howls of the damned. Christopher Robin once dropped a bushel of blueberries into its gaping maw by mistake as a toddler, and was met with a muffled recitation of an excerpt from the Bhagavad-Gita in response. Without a moment's hesitation, Pooh Bear snatched the rickety old bucket sitting next to the well and prepared to descend.

"May my soul be guided by the forsaken inhabitants of Purgatorio…" the plush bastard murmured to himself as he climbed into the well, making a sign of the cross on his forehead.


End file.
